Ashira
by CarlieD
Summary: A double murder has been committed – an Israeli navy captain and an American petty officer killed in haste in an air hangar in Tel Aviv. Ziva’s in a very bad position as she hides the killer… and what else has she been hiding? Tiva-friends-with-benefits e
1. Prologue

_A double murder has been committed – an Israeli navy captain and an American petty officer killed in haste in an air hangar in Tel Aviv. Ziva's in a very bad position as she hides the killer… and what else has she been hiding? Tiva-friends-with-benefits evolving into true Tiva._

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

_**

* * *

**_

Prologue

_He had to get her out. This much he knew. He had to take her and run. She was his world, his everything and no man on a mission would take her away._

_There was one safe place they could go, one person he could trust to keep him safe until the storm had passed. The only problem? She was a twenty-hour flight away, across the ocean in America, and he had no way to forewarn her of his arrival._

_He could take no more chances with her life. He had to go to America, and he had no time to wait for his visitor's visa to arrive._

* * *

27-year-old Ziva David yawned and stretched languorously, eliciting a soft growl from the man lying next to her.

"That was my face, David."

A slight smile emerging, she turned over and murmured into his ear, "Oh, I am sorry, Tony…" Perhaps tonight, if he asked her to stay until morning…

"No, you're not," 39-year-old Tony DiNozzo mumbled, pulling the blankets in tighter. "Goodbye."

Sighing, Ziva rolled away from him, redressing quickly and taking her bag and keys. "See you at work," she said quietly.

* * *

She frowned when she reached her apartment to find the door ajar. Pulling her gun out, she advanced cautiously inside. "Federal agent, come out with your hands up!" she called.

There was movement from the living room, and Ziva whirled in that direction. "Identify yourself!"

"Ziva," a shaking voice pleaded in Arabic. "Please, Ziva, help me."

Ziva lowered her gun. "Khalil?" she asked incredulously. "Khalil, what are you doing here? How did you even find me? Where's Ashira?"

"I… I'm in some trouble, Ziva," the young man whispered in shame. "I need your help."

"Where's Ashira, Khalil?" Ziva repeated, gesturing for him to sit down.

"I don't know… I lost her at the airport when we arrived this evening…"

"You _lost_ Ashira?!" Ziva exclaimed, making him jump.

"I don't know where to look for her, Ziva," Khalil begged, "and I can't ask the authorities to help me. I'm not here legally…"

Ziva ran her hand through her hair. What a perfect ending to a night like this. "What are you doing here, Khalil?" she asked, dialling the police on her phone.

"Hiding," he replied quietly. "Who are you calling?"

"The police," she replied. "Hello, I need to report a missing child. She is 3. She went missing at Dulles International Airport approximately three hours ago. Well, I have relatives visiting from Israel and they speak no English. Her father could not make himself understood. Khalil, what was Ashira wearing?"

"She has a white dress and her blue sweater," Khalil said, "and she's wearing a white and blue _hijab_."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "She's 3 and you have her wearing a _hijab_. Very nice, Khalil." She relayed that information on to the officer, who promised to call as soon as they found her. Hanging up, she turned back to Khalil. "Now why are you hiding in my apartment?"

Khalil took a deep, calming breath. "We're being targeted by Mossad and Hamas. I don't know why. And when we were on our way out of the country…" he stopped, voice dropping to a whisper. "There were two military officers at the hangar where we were stowing away. I had Ashira hidden on the plane already, but they'd seen me. I couldn't leave Ashira alone on an overseas cargo plane, Ziva, I had to do it – "

"Oh, dear God, Khalil, tell me you didn't kill them," Ziva groaned, dropping into a kitchen chair as he nodded. Ziva groaned again and dropped her head into her hands as she tried to figure out a course of action. "Khalil…"

"Please, Ziva, you're the only one I trust…" he begged.

"Khalil, I can't help you," she said quietly. "You killed two men."

"Please, Ziva…"

She shook her head. "No, Khalil. I can't."

"You can make it disappear, Ziva, I know you can. You can make _us_ disappear."

"Khalil, stop!" Ziva exclaimed. "I can't help you! God help me, I love you like a brother, my sister thought the world of you and you are Ashira's father, but you _killed_ two soldiers!"

"At least let me stay, Ziva, just for a while," he pleaded. "And keep Ashira safe…"

Ziva sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Fine. But when they come for you, Khalil, I won't stop them."


	2. Hidden Pasts, Hidden Presents

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Hidden Pasts, Hidden Presents**

"What in the world possessed you, Khalil?" Ziva asked with a sigh, getting up from the couch.

"I… Ziva, you don't _understand_, you don't have a child…"

"Oh, don't you blame Ashira for this, Khalil!"

"I'm not!"

The phone rang just then and Ziva dove for it, slicing her finger across her throat at Khalil, who obediently shut up. "Hello?" she asked.

_"Hey, Ziva,"_ came Tony's drowsy, mildly apologetic voice. _"Mind if I come over?"_

"Ugh, Tony…" Ziva groaned. "It is 3 AM. I just left your apartment an hour ago."

_"I know…"_

Ziva sighed. "Not tonight, Tony." With that, she hung up. "All right. Khalil, you can sleep on the couch. If the police phone and say they've found Ashira, I'll go down and pick her up. I leave at 6:15 to get to work. Don't open the door, answer the phone or open the curtains. If you must watch television or listen to the radio, do so quietly."

Sighing again, she retreated back into her bedroom for a few hours of sleep.

* * *

Tony stared at the receiver blankly. The first time in all the months they'd been sleeping together that she'd turned him down flat. And she'd been acting weirder and weirder lately. Like tonight, when she'd curved against his side and whispered in his ear. Almost as if she were hoping for an invitation to stay, when they had both agreed right from the start that it was a very bad idea.

This wasn't a relationship. This wasn't even a quasi-relationship. This was sex, pure and simple. This was him wanting it and her wanting it and them mutually consenting to do it. What was going on with Ziva?

* * *

The police called at 6:30 AM. _"We've found her. She was out cold in a section of the customs baggage claim."_

"Very well, thank you, officer. I will be right down to pick her up."

* * *

"Ashira, come see Ziva," she said in Arabic, kneeling down to let the small girl run into her arms. Hugging her tightly, Ziva stood up again and thanked the officers again.

"Make sure you don't lose her this time, all right?" the officer laughed, offering Ashira a sucker.

"Oh, I would have never lost her," Ziva replied with a wry smile. "And her father will not be losing her again, either."

* * *

"Ashira!" Khalil exclaimed in relief, pulling his daughter out of Ziva's arms and wrapping her into a tight hug. "Ashira, you don't _ever_ run off like that again, do you understand me?" Ashira just giggled and hugged him back. "Oh, you've taken thirty years off poor Daddy's life…"

* * *

"How do you guys feel like working an international case from home?" Gibbs asked without foreplay as he set down the receiver. "That was Mossad on the phone. They've found an Israeli captain and an American petty officer dead in a hangar at Tel Aviv International Airport."

Ziva looked up simultaneously with Tony and McGee. "Really?" Tony asked interestedly. "That'll be a new one. Do we get to go to Tel Aviv?"

"No need. We already have the guy's name. They figure he's fleeing to America, apparently he's got some relations here."

"Do we have the relations' names?" McGee asked, as Ziva's heart began racing.

"No. That would make it too easy, McGee."

"What's the name, Gibbs?" Ziva asked, managing to get a hold on herself.

"Name's Khalil Al-Abaraz," Gibbs said, looking at the sheet and stumbling slightly over the surname. "21 years old, Egyptian. They think he might be holding a child hostage too. Little 3-year-old daughter, Ashira. The name sound familiar?"

"I know Khalil," Ziva said quietly. "Tali and I grew up with him and his brothers. He and Tali were very close."

"Well, who would he know in America?" Gibbs asked. "Any aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"None as far as I know, his family is all in Jordan," Ziva said, feeling the noose tightening around her neck.

"Could he be coming after Ziva, boss?" Tony asked, casting a nervous glance at Ziva.

"I haven't seen Khalil in years. Not since Tali died. He moved from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem just before she died and then he moved to Cairo shortly after that," Ziva said. "He would have had to ask somebody in Mossad where I was."

* * *

"Khalil, you just can't stop, can you?" Ziva fumed as she stormed into the apartment. "You killed an American! Now I have to investigate! I have to find you!"

Khalil dropped his head. "You can turn me in, Ziva, if you want."

"Oh, God, Khalil, I can't do that now, I've been telling lies all day about this!" Ziva groaned, lifting up Ashira when she reached out her arms insistently. "I have to figure out how I'm going to get out of this without getting written up and fired."

She froze when there came the sounds of the front door unlocking. "Oh, God, no, Tony…" she muttered, setting down Ashira as Khalil made a desperate dash for her hall closet, closing the door just as Tony came in.

"No!!" Ashira exclaimed crankily, reaching up to Ziva again.

"Ziva?" Tony asked warily, closing the front door and looking at Ashira.

Ziva sighed. "Tony, this is Ashira Al-Abaraz."

"I can see that, what's she doing in your apartment?"

"I do not know, Tony," Ziva said with a sigh. "She was here when I arrived home. Khalil must have come to see if I was home and left her here."

"Why?" Tony asked.

"Khalil would not want Ashira hurt in crossfire. He is a smart man, he knows he cannot run forever." She resettled Ashira on her hip, rubbing her back as the little girl began to drift off.

"Have you called Gibbs yet?" Tony asked, frowning at her.

"I saw no reason. Nothing is disturbed, he is not in the apartment. What is Gibbs going to do, telepathically find him?" She caught his wrist as he was going to bring his cell phone out of his pocket. "How are you going to explain what you are doing at my apartment in the first place?"

Tony sighed and replaced the phone. "Right. You're right. Why would he leave her here? The guy's on the lam, and he risks his life and liberty to break into a Mossad officer's home – in America, no less – to dump his kid? It doesn't make sense, Ziva."

"Khalil never has had much sense," Ziva said quietly, laying Ashira down on her couch and pulling a blanket over her. "He would not be in this situation if he did. He is rash, impulsive. He does not think before he acts. It has always been the weak point of the Al-Abaraz family. Amir and Ismael were the same way."

"Why would he bring her here? Why not just leave her in a crowded area? Dump her at the airport, the mall, where somebody would pick her up and take her to police? Why not leave her in Tel Aviv?"

"I do not _know_, Tony, do I look like Khalil?" Ziva snapped as she stood back up. Groaning in dismay, she knuckled her forehead wearily and pulled away when Tony tried to slip an arm around her waist. "Stop it, Tony. Not tonight."

"Hey, hey, what's going on with you lately?" Tony asked, catching her arm and pulling her back. He looked at her face carefully: the dark circles under her eyes, the faint tinge of redness, her skin's pallor. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Tony. I have a lot going on right now, I am just… tired," she sighed, turning away just before he managed to loop his arm around her waist. "Please? Just leave…"

"Not until we know Al-Abaraz isn't coming back for you," Tony replied quietly, leaving her alone for a minute as he began to poke through the papers on her kitchen counter. "What's all this, Ziva?" he asked, picking up one sheaf and rifling through it.

"Tony, do not pry," she said in irritation, pulling the papers from his hand. "It is none of your business."

"You thinking of moving, there, Ziva?" Tony asked. "What's wrong with here?"

Ziva put away the ads and her face tightened. "It is time for a change," she said quietly.

"Ziva, I thought you liked this place because it gave you month-to-month leasing. That way you're not stuck paying when you move back to Israel. Not many places in D.C. will do that. And you don't want to move to any of these other places that do."

"I know," Ziva said. "Tony, go. I will be fine here, really."

"Not going, Ziva. Not until you tell me what you're _not_ telling me."

* * *

Ziva sighed and shook her head, pulling her hand through her hair wearily as she started to turn away. The slight movement twitched aside her jacket, revealing a stomach just a little too rounded to be mistaken, and Tony got a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. How had he not noticed in the last months?

"Oh, God… Ziva, how…" he asked shakily, as she whirled back around and immediately pulled her jacket back over. "I mean, it can't be… we always…"

"Condoms are not guaranteed, Tony," Ziva replied softly, her face displaying an expression of hurt for a split-second before she recovered and continued, "and yes, she is yours. Despite what you may think about me, I have more class than that. I do not sleep with two men at the same time. Now, please leave –" She faltered when he caught her by the shoulders, eyes boring into hers.

"How long were you going to wait before you told me?" he asked angrily. "Until you couldn't hide it anymore? Or were you going to conveniently return to Israel at that point? What were you planning on doing with it?"

"I have been trying, Tony, I have _been_ trying for _three months_ to tell you," Ziva snapped. "And every time I try, you interrupt or you fall asleep or Gibbs calls, and I lose my nerve again. I will say it one more time, Tony: please leave now."

* * *

"Khalil, you must leave," she said softly after Tony, still in shock, had left and Khalil had finally crawled out from the closet. "You cannot stay here."

"Please, Ziva…" Khalil pleaded.

"No, Khalil. You must leave tonight. I can't risk my job like this. I told them that you must've broken into my apartment and abandoned Ashira. You must leave now."

"Ziva, my sister, please…"

"Go, Khalil, before somebody sees you, or I swear to Adonai, I will call Mossad myself and report you in my custody."

* * *

Ziva awoke with a start when she heard Ashira crying out in the living room. Sighing, she yawned and got out of bed. "Ashira, little pet, what's the matter?" she asked, lifting the little girl up into her arms.

"I miss Daddy. When's Daddy coming back, Ziva?"

Ziva cuddled the little girl close for a moment before she said, "Daddy won't be coming back, Ashira."

"Can I sleep with you, then?"

Ziva smiled slightly. "Of course, little pet."

* * *

"Ziva," Ashira asked with a yawn as Ziva parked the car at the Navy Yard. "Ziva, can you fix my scarf?"

Ziva sighed and reached into the backseat, rearranging the scarf slightly. "You don't need to wear it, Ashira, if you don't want to."

"Daddy says it's proper for big girls."

"Good morning, Ziva," came Ducky's pleasant voice from across the parking lot as Ziva got out and went to untangle Ashira from the mess she'd made of her seatbelt. "Well, who is this?" he asked, crouching down to greet the little girl as Ziva set her down on the ground. "Good morning, dear child. I am Ducky."

"Ducky, this is Ashira," Ziva said, locking her car and then taking hold of Ashira's hand before she ran off. "She is my… I cannot remember the English word. My _achyanit_. Um…" She tried again to search through her vocabulary. Finally, she said, "My sister's child, yes?"

"Niece."

"I knew it sounded like a city."

"So how is it that we haven't heard of her in two years, Ziva?" Ducky asked, holding the door for her.

"Thank you, Ducky, and that would be because before last night, I had not seen Ashira since she was three weeks old. The occasional web cam conversation with her father, but not in person. She lives in Cairo."

"Ziva, tell me that's not who I think it is," Gibbs said as he looked behind him at the metal detectors. "Because if that's Ashira Al-Abaraz, you have some serious explaining to do."

"I cannot explain much, Gibbs," Ziva said truthfully with a shrug of her shoulders. "I came home and she was there. No sign of Khalil, so I saw no reason to wake you."

"What is Ashira Al-Abaraz doing in your apartment in the first place, Ziva?" Gibbs asked point-blank, as they boarded the elevator.

"I cannot tell you what I do not know, Gibbs," Ziva replied quietly, feeling Ashira wrap herself around her leg nervously. Reassuringly, Ziva put a hand on her head.

* * *

"Boss, we got those civil files on Al-Abaraz that you wanted," McGee said as he came into the bullpen.

Ziva looked up from where she was working another angle, Ashira sitting on her lap drawing on a blank piece of paper.

Tony pulled them out of McGee's hand and began to read them out loud. "Born September 14, 1986 in a small town in Jordan with an unpronounceable name. Father's a businessman, mother's a homemaker. Two brothers, Amir, born 1980, and Ismael, born 1984 and died 1996. They move to Tel Aviv when Khalil is 4 months old. He attends a local Muslim private school, but drops out three months before graduation. Marries…" he trailed off, staring at the paper in shock.

"What, DiNozzo, can't read it?" Gibbs asked irritably.

"No, I can," Tony said quickly, frowning as he continued. "In 2004, marries –"

"– Tali David," Ziva finished quietly. "16 at the time. Both of them have been disowned. They move to Jerusalem and that same year, Ashira is born. Two weeks later, Tali is killed by a suicide bomber on her way to meet her brother and sister. Khalil takes Ashira and moves to Cairo." She looked at Gibbs when he started opening his mouth to blast her. "If you had asked, I would have told you."

"Would you have, Officer David?"


	3. Family Secret

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

NOTE: Just in case anybody is wondering, as far as I can figure out, Ashira is Hebrew for 'I will sing'. (thank you, Prince of Egypt soundtrack with lyrics and translations.)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Family Secret**

"You asked me if he had relatives in America. He does not," Ziva said calmly.

"I asked you who he knew in America. You count," Gibbs said.

"But then you followed it with 'aunts, uncles, cousins'. Meaning relatives. And I was not lying when I said Khalil did not know I was given a position in America. I do not know who he contacted to get that information."

"Don't do semantics with me, Ziva, you will lose," Gibbs warned. "Relatives includes in-laws. Meaning you."

"Maybe to you. I do not include in-laws in the relative category. Tali is dead. Khalil has no family tie to me."

"Except her," Gibbs cut her off, gesturing to Ashira. "And I'll bet you've talked to Al-Abaraz in the last three years too, haven't you?"

Ziva sighed. "If your semantics include a couple of web-cam conversations, then yes."

"My semantics _do_ include web-cam, Ziva. What else have you been lying about?"

"I have not been ly – am I being interrogated?"

* * *

"Yeah, I would say by _anybody's_ semantics, Ziva, you're being interrogated," Tony said from across the bullpen. "And yeah, you've been lying." _'About more than this,'_ he thought to himself.

She had to be at least four or five months along. And she had only told him last night.

This wasn't even supposed to have happened. They had used protection – lots of it. They couldn't risk something like this happening. She had to be lying to him about the father. The chances of the condom not working at the right biological time? What was it, like, 1 percent? A chance in a million…

But why? Why lie to him about this? They both knew this wasn't permanent. Why lie to him, tell him that he was the father? Unless the other guy had left, had wanted nothing to do with her or the baby… But even so, why lie? Why not tell him the truth, admit that she had made a mistake and she needed help and wanted _his_ help?

Ziva looked away from him, focusing her attention on Gibbs just as their boss stood in front of her desk and said, "Ziva, I am going to ask direct questions with no semantic variants. I want an honest answer."

"And I will give it to you," Ziva replied quietly.

"When did Khalil Al-Abaraz arrive in the US?"

Ziva didn't dare break her gaze with Gibbs. "The day before yesterday."

"When did he first contact you?"

She sighed and bit her lower lip. "That same night. I had been out for most of the night and when I returned home, my door was ajar. I came inside and found him in my apartment. He had lost Ashira at the airport, he was upset."

"What did he want you to do?"

"He was scared. He wanted me to help him. They were being targeted in Cairo by Hamas and Mossad. He stowed away to America on a cargo plane flying from Tel Aviv to Washington. The two officers spotted him before he could get onboard. They were going to arrest him, and he had Ashira hidden on the plane already. He said that he could not leave her alone in the cargo hold of an international flight. He had to kill the two officers to get into the plane."

"What exactly did you tell him?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"That I could not help him. That regardless of his reasons, he had killed two soldiers and I could not help him. I told him that he could stay for a while, but that I would not stop Mossad if they found him. I thought that perhaps I could find out why Mossad was targeting him, maybe call them off. He would have been considered to be in Mossad custody."

"And then they called us," McGee said softly. "Told us that one officer was American."

"What did you do then?"

"I came home and I told him he could not stay. I gave him two options: he could stay, and I would turn him in to NCIS and Mossad, or he could leave. He chose to leave."

* * *

Ziva sighed as she ripped the eviction notice down from her door before any of her colleagues could see it. Unlocking the door, she let Ashira dash in ahead of her, ignored the insistently flashing message light on her phone and dropped her coat and bag over the papers on her table. "Go ahead, Gibbs. Search my apartment," she sighed, rubbing her forehead wearily. "At this point, I do not care any more."

"Tony, McGee," Gibbs said stiffly, gesturing at the chair for Ziva to sit. Gratefully, she sank into the chair, accepting Ashira as she scrambled up into her arms.

"Ziva, can we watch a movie?"

"I don't have any movies for you, Ashira," Ziva replied gently. She picked up the phone as it rang and sighed. "David."

It was her landlord. Irate at the no-children policy being ignored, and not having been warned that she would be moving. Ziva suspected the messages on her machine were all from Richard as well.

"Richard, it is a month-to-month lease, why did you need forewarning?" she asked tiredly. Gibbs sent a suspicious glance at her as he continued searching the front area, opening the front hall closet. "Very well. I will be out by the end of the month." She hung up just as Gibbs whipped out his gun and shouted, "Federal officer, come out with your hands up!"

And to Ziva's surprise and horror, Khalil slowly emerged from the closet, hands up in the air. How... she had watched him leave! She had made sure he had left the building and was going down the street when she turned her back...

"I'm sorry, Ziva," Khalil said quietly as Gibbs pulled his hands behind his back. "I didn't want to get you in trouble. I couldn't leave Ashira..."

Ziva rubbed her forehead wearily. "We are going back to NCIS?"

"Oh, you bet we are, David," Gibbs replied icily. "DiNozzo, take her back down to questioning. McGee, take the kid to Social Services."

"Gibbs, no," Ziva said desperately as Tony pulled her up from the chair by her arm. "Gibbs, we do not know if Mossad or Hamas have tracked Khalil and Ashira here."

"Right now, Ziva, I don't think there _is_ anybody after them," Gibbs replied stiffly. "McGee, Social Services."

"On it, boss," McGee said, hesitating for a moment before he reached out to take Ashira's hand. "Come on, let's go."

Ashira shied away from him, burying herself against Ziva's legs.

"It's okay, Ashira," Ziva said softly, brushing her hand briefly across the top of her niece's head. "You can go with him." She looked up at McGee. "She knows only Arabic, McGee. And -"

"I'll see if they can find a Muslim family for her. Sunni?"

"Yes. Thank you," Ziva said quietly.

"It's only for a little while, right?" Ashira asked plaintively, still holding onto Ziva's hand. "Where are you going? Will you come get me, Ziva?"

"Ashira..." Ziva said, yanking her arm out of Tony's grip and kneeling down to look her little niece in the eye. "Ashira, you have to stay with another family for a little while. Just until Ziva can fix something grown-up, and then I promise, I will come get you. Can you be a big girl for a few days?"

"I already am a big girl!" Ashira exclaimed indignantly.

"Right, right, I forgot," Ziva said with a laugh. "You can be a good girl, though, for the family? Show them how well-behaved you can be?"

"Do they talk Arabic? I don't know English."

"McGee will try and find a family who speaks Arabic for you, sweetie. Now, come give me a hug and a kiss goodbye."

"But only for a little bit," Ashira said anxiously. "Only for a little while. Daddy said I would come stay with you in America."

"Yes, only for a little while, Ashira," Ziva soothed, kissing her forehead gently.

* * *

"We need to talk," Tony said without hesitation once they had gotten into the car to drive down to NCIS.

"About what?" Ziva asked coolly, keeping her gaze focused on the road.

"You know damn well about what, Ziva."

"It is clear that you do not believe me, so why discuss it?" Ziva replied.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"As I was saying, you clearly do not believe me, so I will not get into this argument with you," Ziva said.

"Of course I'm questioning the validity of your statement!" Tony exclaimed. "Those things have a failure of what, 1 percent?"

"Three, actually," Ziva said quietly. "But you said it yourself, they _do_ have a failure rate."

"But what are the chances of it -"

"Forget the statistics, Tony, it _happened_!" Ziva burst out angrily. "God, this is _exactly _why I waited so long to tell you."

"I just want to make sure that I'm not being held responsible for some other guy's mistake!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that he had just slammed the final nail into his coffin. Ziva's jaw tightened and she turned away without a word, watching the buildings flash by on the street.

* * *

"I did not know that Khalil had reentered my apartment, Gibbs," Ziva said quietly. "He must have doubled back after Ashira and I had left for NCIS in the morning."

"Ziva, you know this doesn't look good on your part," Gibbs said without delay. "You hid a man who admitted to killing two military officers and entering the US illegally. You didn't inform NCIS or Mossad when we received the case. To all appearances, you continued to hide the killer. That's almost enough to charge you as an accessory, Ziva."

"Gibbs..."

"But I don't really care about that part, Ziva." He leaned onto his elbows on the table, eyes boring into hers. "Why didn't you come to me in the first place?"

"Because at the time it was not NCIS' problem," Ziva said quietly.

Gibbs sighed and closed his eyes. "DiNozzo's talking to Al-Abaraz in the other room, Ziva. We know you kicked him out when you found out NCIS was involved. He says he broke into your apartment again once you had left in the morning. There was a hidden shelving unit in the front closet, just big enough for a young man to fit into. Apparently he discovered it the day before, when he was hiding in the closet from DiNozzo." He paused, looking at her. "He said that you and DiNozzo were having some sort of argument. What was he doing in your apartment in the first place, Ziva?"

Ziva bit her lower lip.

"Did I ever tell you rule number twelve, Ziva?" Gibbs asked quietly, and in that second, Ziva knew that somehow, he had figured it out.

"Is it something to the effect of 'Never sleep with a coworker'?"

"Actually, it's 'Never date a coworker', but that works too." Gibbs waited for a moment before he said, "How far?"

Ziva paused. "Six months," she murmured.

"Does your father know?"

"No, and I would appreciate it if he was not told."

"You should tell him, Ziva. You never know what he'll – "

"The last time he was told that his unmarried daughter was pregnant by a non-Jew, she was disowned. My father and I may be on brittle terms, Gibbs, but I still like knowing I _have_ a father."

* * *

"So what happens now, Ziva?" Khalil asked softly as he looked at her from his seat on the bed in lock-up.

"You'll be extradited tomorrow to Israel to stand trial for the two murders," Ziva replied quietly, leaning back against the bars of the cell. "At that time, you'll be found guilty, because if you're smart, you'll plead guilty. That may buy you life in prison instead of the death penalty."

"Either way, I'm never going to see Ashira again, am I?" he asked.

Ziva sighed. "I'll bring her tonight to say goodbye, Khalil, but after that, no. You won't see her again. She'll be staying here in D.C. with me."


	4. Talia

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of NCIS.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Talia**

"Ashira, come back here!" Ziva called after her niece as she set down another box in their new apartment. "Ashira!"

"Look, Ziva, look, there's a playground!" Ashira called excitedly, climbing up onto a pile of boxes by the window. "Ziva, come see!"

"Careful, Ashira," Ziva said, lifting the girl back down to the ground. "Those boxes won't hold your weight. You'll break them. Come help Ziva unpack your clothes."

"We don't have anywhere to put them yet, Ziva," Ashira pointed out. "The furniture isn't here yet."

"Right," Ziva sighed as she rearranged her scarf uncomfortably. The price she paid for month-to-month leasing... "Our furniture movers are late. Well, let's start putting what we can away, yes?"

"Like what?"

"Like our dishes and our groceries."

"I can put away groceries," Ashira supplied helpfully.

"That's good, because you'll be helping me," Ziva laughed, lifting her up to the countertop. "Pass me the meat dishes, please. One at a time."

"Are those the blue ones or the red ones?"

"The red ones, Ashira. Red for meat, remember?"

"Oh, yeah..." Ashira handed her the first of the dishes, watching as Ziva put them away. "What are we having for supper tonight?"

"I believe the boys are bringing some pizza tonight."

"Is pizza kosher?" Ashira asked curiously, passing a red cup to Ziva.

"This pizza will be," Ziva said with a smile.

* * *

The knocking sounded not long after they had finished what they could of unpacking. Opening the door revealed her landlord, evidently checking to see that the only young, unmarried, non-Muslim woman in the complex was abiding by the rules laid out.

"As requested, Omar," she said with a smile. "Thank you again, for making an exception."

"I believe myself to be a reasonable man," Omar replied with a slight smile. "_I_ thank _you_ for respecting our traditions, and in return, will respect yours." He gave her another slight nod before turning around and leaving, just as Gibbs, McGee, Tony and Ducky appeared.

"We left Mr. Palmer guarding the vehicles," Ducky announced jovially as Ziva stepped aside to let them in with the first piece of furniture. Well, Ducky wasn't carrying – 'supervising', he called it.

"Sorry we're late," McGee said, slightly out-of-breath already. "Jimmy still can't read a map."

"Pizza should be arriving in a couple of hours," Tony reported.

* * *

"What's this on this pizza, Ziva?" Ashira asked as she pried the mushrooms, red onions and green peppers off her slice, leaving only the cheese and the white onions. "Are they supposed to look like that?"

"They're vegetables, Ashira, you can eat that," Ziva replied. "Peppers and red onions and mushrooms." She pointed to each food as she named it.

Ashira cautiously replaced the onions and mushroom, though she left the peppers. "I don't like peppers."

"These aren't like the peppers Daddy used," Ziva replied. "They aren't spicy."

"Are you sure?" Ashira asked doubtfully.

"Absolutely positive, Ashira," Ziva reaffirmed, looking up momentarily at her colleagues all watching her curiously. "What?" she asked, a little peevishly. "She has never seen red onions or mushrooms or green peppers before. They are not things you normally find in Egypt." _(A/N: Or as far as I can tell...)_

"Nothing, it's just the Arabic. I keep forgetting you speak it," McGee said quickly.

"Ziva, I don't like these ones," Ashira announced, picking off the red onions and putting them onto Ducky's plate, where numerous red onions had piled up from the others.

"Well, thank you, my dear," Ducky said with a smile, adding them to his own slice of pizza. "I do enjoy a good dosing of red onion on my pizza."

"And I don't like these ones," Ashira continued, nibbling the corner off a green pepper and then dumping the pile onto Jimmy's plate. "These other ones are okay," she admitted, taking a bite of a mushroom.

"Ashira, you don't need to put them on everybody else's plate," Ziva admonished. "Finish your pizza, then it'll be time for bed."

"And what's with the scarf?" Gibbs asked, as Ziva took another bite out of her pizza.

"Condition of my lease," Ziva said wryly. "The landlord does not normally take non-Muslim tenants. He made an exception because Ashira was Muslim-raised."

* * *

Ashira had long since fallen asleep when most of the guys left, leaving only Tony behind with Ziva.

"You can leave, Tony," she said coolly, wiping off the table.

"Don't want to," Tony replied. "We still need to talk."

"About what?" Ziva asked, heading back towards her bedroom without ever looking at him. Sighing, she pulled off her shirt, face wrinkling in slight displeasure as she examined her figure. She couldn't hide it anymore, no matter how big the shirt or jacket was.

"Ziva..." Tony said in frustration as he entered behind her. "What did I do to make you mad?"

Ziva let out a great 'Ha!' of disbelief. "Are you honestly asking that question?" she asked, rifling in her drawers for a sleep tank, and then remembered none of them had fit in a while. Sighing, she yanked an old shirt of Ari's out and pulled it over her head. "How about when you called me a liar? When you basically called me a whore? When you denied that our child is yours?"

"Hey, whose shirt is this?" Tony asked. "That's not one of mine."

"It belonged to Ari, Tony," Ziva said irritably, sitting down on the edge of her bed to pull off her jeans. "Why do you care?"

"Listen, Ziva, I've been thinking..."

"Shocking," she said dryly, pulling off the scarf from her head and letting out her hair from its bun.

"Do you mind not being sarcastic for, like, ten minutes?" Tony snapped. "I've been thinking, and I guess I just wanted you to know that... that I'll, you know, help out and stuff. At least, until you go back to Israel."

"Really," Ziva said sceptically.

"Yeah."

Not enough, but she'd take it for now. "Well, then," Ziva sighed as she watched his face. "If you are so intent on helping, would you mind giving me a back massage? My back has been aching all day..."

* * *

It was ridiculous, how awkward it felt to be doing something so... normal, so mundane, Tony mused as he began rubbing her back, which did seem knotted and tense. He was so used to unbridled romance and hastily-bid goodbyes with Ziva that this felt weird, unfamiliar. Would their lives always be like this from now on?

Ziva closed her eyes and sighed. Without even thinking, she had dropped her head back to his shoulder, leaning against him. "_Toda_, Tony..." she murmured.

"Not a problem," Tony murmured in reply, sliding an arm around her waist carefully to lay her back on the bed. He felt a tiny fluttering kick against his hand as he withdrew the arm. "Goodnight, Ziva."

* * *

"No, Ziva, you stay here," Gibbs ordered as the rest of the team geared up. "You're restricted to desk duty from now on."

"But Gibbs..." Ziva protested, getting up from her chair.

"This is not a negotiation, Officer David. Sit down and keep making phone calls."

Ziva sighed impatiently. "Gibbs – "

"Sit, Ziva."

* * *

"Ziva," Ashira asked one night as she was playing with her dolls in the living room, "are you married to the man who keeps coming?"

"To Tony?" Ziva asked, stretched out on the sofa with a cool, damp cloth over her eyes. "No, Ashira."

"I wondered, that's all," Ashira said. "So where is the baby's daddy? Mrs Salem says that all babies have daddies, but some of them have improper mommies who aren't married to the daddies."

"It's complicated, Ashira," Ziva sighed.

_

* * *

_

Two months later:

"Hey, where's Ziva?" Tony asked as he entered the bullpen with McGee.

"In the hospital, still, probably," Gibbs replied. "Called me at about 1 AM, said that she had gone into labour." When McGee had gone to his own desk and started working, he beckoned Tony over to his desk. "DiNozzo, why don't _you_ know?" he asked quietly, so that McGee couldn't overhear.

Tony shrugged uneasily. How to explain that they weren't exactly together? That he had been out all night until about 4 this morning with a new girlfriend, ignoring the calls from Ziva?

Gibbs eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then said, "Bethesda. That's an order," he added sternly.

"Yes, sir," Tony said quietly.

* * *

Sighing, Tony pushed open the doors to Bethesda's maternity ward, asking at the desk, "Ziva David?"

"Room 402," the nurse replied, pointing across from the desk.

Tony thanked her and then entered the room. "So when were you planning on telling me?" he asked quietly, leaning back against the wall.

"I called until about 4 AM. You never picked up," Ziva replied quietly, eyes focused on the newborn in her arms.

"I was out."

"I met your new girlfriend," Ziva said, still never looking at him. "Amber, was her name?"

Tony's heart stopped. Amber was a nurse on this ward, her shift had started at 6. "Did you – "

"No, I did not tell her," Ziva replied quietly. "Were _you _planning on telling her at all?" She scoffed when Tony remained silent. "No, I did not think so. I suppose it was a good thing, then, that I did not mention your name at all on the records." She sighed again. "Michael is supposed to be coming by later this morning with the Israeli papers."

"Ziva..."

"Like you said, Tony, one day I will go back to Israel."

There was silence for a while until Ziva finally spoke. "Her name is Talia. Talia Carmel David." Tony watched her for a moment before he hesitantly took his newborn daughter when Ziva held her out to him, unsure of what to do with the little bundle.

He wasn't ready for this.

* * *

Tony lay back in his bed that night, arm around Amber's naked form, and tried to figure out what exactly he was feeling.

They had never been 'together', so he wasn't cheating. They both agreed that it had been an accident, and Ziva had made the decision to keep Talia on her own, which meant that Tony had no real obligation to her.

So why did he feel so bad?

* * *

"Shh... shh..." Ziva tried to sooth the squalling newborn, pacing around the living room. "Sleep, Tali, it's all right..." she whispered. "Sleep, little girl... you haven't slept all night... Mama wants to go to sleep, too, you know..."

"Ziva," Ashira complained, looking up from her colouring book at the dining table. "She's been crying all night."

"I know, Ashira, and you've been patient, thank you," Ziva sighed, rubbing her face tiredly. Talia let out a scream of discontent again, making her older cousin clamp her hands over her ears in frustration. "All right, Tali, let's try feeding you again," she sighed, curling up in an armchair. That seemed to do the trick for once, as Talia latched on immediately to the exposed breast. "Yes, that seems to have done it," Ziva cooed gently. "That was all you wanted."

* * *

That evening, as she was still cradling Talia in her arms when she tucked Ashira in, Ziva was momentarily startled by the sheer domesticity of the situation. To imagine that she, highly-trained _metsada_, would be raising small children and not at all revolted by the image... it hadn't even played a role in her wildest dreams.

"Goodnight, Ashira," Ziva whispered to her niece gently, kissing her on the forehead. Then she closed Ashira's bedroom door and went to go lay Talia down in her bassinet.

* * *

"Tony, she is your daughter, too," Ziva said tiredly some three months later as she cradled the receiver against her shoulder, Ashira sobbing with ear infection pain at the door and Talia crying in upset on the changing pad.

_"What the hell am _I_ supposed to do with her, Ziva?"_ Tony's slightly panicked voice came over the line.

"Hold her. Cuddle her. Play with her. God, Tony, I am not asking for much! Just take her for a few hours while I am at the hospital with Ashira!" Ziva sighed in disgust as she got Talia's diaper changed and her feet back into the legs of her sleeper. She started snapping the fasteners back up rapidly, working around Talia's kicking, and then lifted her daughter up to place her back in the carrier.

_"But Ziva!"_

"You were going to help, remember?" she said coldly. "I do not care what you tell Melissa or whatever the new girlfriend's name is, Tony, but you are taking Talia for the day."

* * *

Tony groaned as he hung up the phone. Now what was he supposed to tell 'the new girlfriend'?

"Tony?" came Alyson's seductive voice from the hallway. He looked up to see her emerging in a racy lingerie set. "Tony, you ready for round two?"

"Uh, Alyson, you're going to have to leave," Tony said with another groan. "I, uh, I have my daughter coming." The words felt strange, foreign in his mouth.

"Daughter?" Alyson said in surprise. "What daughter? You've never mentioned a daughter."

"I, uh, I don't see her a lot." 'Just once she's asleep about twice since she was born,' he added internally.

"Oh, you poor man," Alyson said with a sensual pout, cuddling up next to him. "I'll stay. I love kids, and she'll need to get used to me if we're together. What's her name?"

"Her name is Talia," Tony said reluctantly.

"Adorable," Alyson said, nuzzling his neck before she stood up. "Well, we'd best get dressed, then, shouldn't we?"

* * *

When Ziva arrived nearly forty-five minutes later, Tony was just having a general bad feeling about this entire set-up. Alyson seemed to have the mistaken impression that Talia was much older than she really was, and Tony didn't know how to break it to her that Talia was still pretty much a newborn.

He heard Alyson answer the door, cringing from inside his bedroom as he heard Ziva's waspish remark of, "You must be the new girlfriend." He could hear Ashira still crying. Sighing, he finished pulling up his fly and then exited.

"Morning, Ziva," he greeted quietly.

"Good morning, Tony," she replied, setting down the baby bag on a chair and the carrier on the table. "Thank you." She sent him a brief quizzical glance when Alyson knelt down to try and engage Ashira in conversation. Tony shrugged uneasily and came forward when Ziva made the impatient gesture.

Lifting Talia out of the carrier, Ziva placed her into his arms. "She has been changed and fed. She should probably sleep for a few hours at least. I picked the lock on your Mustang and saved you the trouble of figuring out how to install the car mount for the carrier. She has diapers and a change of clothes in the bag. There are bottles in the cooler in there, remember to warm them up a little. I will call if I think we are going to be in Emergency longer than anticipated. My cell will be off, do not bother trying to call me. Do not shake her, do not drop her, be careful of her head..."

Ashira pulled at Ziva's jeans, sobbing hysterically in Arabic. Ziva responded wearily and hoisted her up onto a hip. Then she left as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Tony being stared at by Alyson.

"I thought she was older," Alyson said. "Who was the one I was talking to?"

"Ziva's niece. She has a bad ear infection and they needed to go to Emergency," Tony replied, cautiously bouncing Talia when she began to whine and kick, waking from her sleep at the unfamiliar touch. "Hey, can you ta– " He stopped when Alyson shook her refusal.

"I'm not touching that thing," Alyson said definitely. "You call me when it's gone." With that, she exited swiftly, leaving Tony in complete panic mode with a crying infant.

"Okay, so what am I supposed to do with you?" he asked Talia, who kept crying. "You're supposed to be sleeping! Stop crying... _please_ stop crying? I know you probably want your mom, and right now I really want her too, but she left you here and I can't get her and she's going to beat the crap out of me if she comes back and you've done nothing but cry, so can you please stop crying?"

He sighed. "Okay, DiNozzo, think. She's only 3 months, she can't be that hard to figure out. Ziva said she ate, therefore she is not hungry. She's been changed, therefore it isn't a hygiene issue. She _was _sleeping and now she's not, so she's not tired. I don't think..." Grumbling under his breath, Tony tried putting the baby against his shoulder and rocking her like he'd seen Ziva do.

Slowly, the baby calmed, her tiny fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt and head nestling into the curve of his neck.

"Okay. This is good," Tony muttered.

* * *

When Ziva returned from Emergency later in the evening, she found Tony asleep on the couch with Talia fast asleep on his chest. Smiling, she carefully lifted the baby from him, depositing a light kiss on his forehead. "_Toda_, Tony."


End file.
